An Exploration into Gratitude & Grief

I’ve been processing a lot of grief these last few months alongside the restored gift of joy. I’ve been trusted with so much. “He tests you because He trusts you” has never made more sense - and oh, how I desire to be trustworthy. Not dwelling solely on my own strength, not on my own mercies, that (quite easily) fall short, not on my own understanding, not even on my own timing and dreams. But I also know myself, and I that I must remember if I don’t move, I stagnate.

The right thing at the wrong time is still the wrong thing.

I have to come back to that. And ultimately, that’s why I lean on my Saviour as my director. There’s multiple parts of me that are so ready to move along. There’s other parts of me that recall that faithfulness is often “just” a slow burn. There’s a third part of me still questioning what exactly the draw is: love, home, lack here? Because if it’s lack…what am I looking for elsewhere that I am somehow not dwelling in gratitude?

And there it is again: the tension between gratitude and grief; the now and not yet.

Yet, in the middle of all of this I find myself often saying, “God, this isn’t what I pictured,” only to hear Him say, “…but isn’t it simultaneously what you prayed for?”

Well, that’s just grief exactly, isn’t it? Not the lack of gratitude by any means, but the acknowledgement of what has once been. The what could have beens, particularly in my (read: our) own timing. It doesn’t quite fit the bill of sanctification or nostalgia nor something so terribly simple as “loss,” but is still characterized by all of those feelings. I feel a lot of it these days: the deep complexities of life I wish I could put an exact finger on. Maybe one day, I will. I felt it when mum and Alexandrea were here: the ache of lost days gone by even as they were standing next to me overlooking Palm Beach, even as they sat in the morning drinking our coffee like any other day - a gratitude existing alongside grief in almost near-harmony.

Here’s my thought: maybe it’s because gratitude and grief must co-exist. You can’t have one purely without the other. I can experience an overflow of gratitude in community to the point wehre my heart could and truly would burst, followed instantaneously by the wave of realization that this same community isn’t forever in two ways: that, obviously, Australia will kick me out eventually whether I like it or not, but more so that we were ordained to sit in the very specific place and time that we are, just as we are, and we will never recreate that space and time ever again, no matter how much we intend upon it.

Take that in.

Mhm. It’s a lot.

Grief isn’t just what’s in a moment of heartache. It’s the what-could-have-beens that weigh on me so heavily, particularly within the church; and also the what-could-have-beens within my own life even when it comes to personal things or dreams.

Like the very vulnerable and honest fact that I could’ve been married and would’ve probably had a little tiny person or two running around by now and wow my heart aches for that like I’ve never felt before in this life. Or where I’d be right now acting and career wise if my life didn’t just…stop. And I can’t help but wonder if that’s such a distraction from the enemy to keep us from moving forward or staying rooted to grow as we are, to remain.

Perhaps grief and gratitude live in our present and future altogether once again.

God does a new thing, but that doesn’t mean we shy away from the what could have beens, shove it all down, not feel things, and hide behind the easily familiar mask of “I’m doing well!”

We’re the body of Christ.

There have been seasons where we act like an arm, or a foot, or an ear. We should be gathering now more than ever before.

Here we are: gratitude and grief alike. The tension of now and not yet to come.